


Birthday Pie

by tcwordsmith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Domestic destiel, Gen, Kid!Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:36:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcwordsmith/pseuds/tcwordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That hasn't worked since she was <i>six</i>, Dean."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Pie

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Secret Santa art/ fic exchange gift for everkings' 2012 Secret Santa on tumblr. The recipient was petwinchester.

Castiel closed the bedroom door as quietly as he could and shuffled silently down the stairs. He may have finally managed to convince Maisy that staying up until midnight didn’t mean getting to celebrate her birthday any longer, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Once he was on the main level of the house, he rounded the stairs and headed into the kitchen; he still had a pie to bake.

Humming to himself quietly, he gathered the ingredients and spread them across the island in the middle of the kitchen. Baking, Castiel had discovered, was soothing. It wasn’t the hurried frenzy of cooking, with its imprecise measurements and seasoning to taste; there was a delicate balance between the ingredients required and measuring and sifting was nearly muscle memory by now. He’d had years to perfect this particular apple pie.

The shnnk of the apple corer roused Dean from the recliner in the den. Castiel smiled when he looked up and saw Dean leaning against the kitchen doorway, a can loosely held in one hand.  


“Hey baby,” Dean murmured, shifting away from the doorway and taking the three steps into the kitchen to lean over the island, “You makin’ the pie now?”

Castiel nodded and tossed the apple slices in a mixing bowl with just a bit of lemon juice. “I felt it most prudent, considering the penchant of Winchesters both big and small to hinder the process with ‘taste testing.’” He wiped his apple sticky hands on a dish towel before making air quotes at Dean.

Dean smirked and took a drink from the can. “Hey,” he protested, “Somebody’s gotta make sure it ain’t poison. Someone insisted on watching Snow White one too many times.” He quirked an eyebrow as he crushed the empty can and tossed it at the trash bin. “Can I help? Is the crust rolled out?” Dean cracked his neck and looked around the kitchen.

“If you’d like, I need the crust coated with egg whites and the oven turned on to four fifty,” Castiel murmured, coring another apple and using his head to indicate the bowl of egg whites and the pie crust.

“You got it,” Dean nodded, turning to click the oven on before digging in a drawer for a brush for the egg whites. Castiel bit the inside of his top lip to hide the ridiculous smile that was threatening to form and went back to coring and slicing apples.

Dean finished with the egg whites and moved to dig around in the refrigerator. “Want one?” He asked, pulling out two cans of soda.

“I’d take a water bottle if there’s one cold; I don’t need any more caffeine if I plan on sleeping tonight,” Castiel replied, throwing away the last of the apple cores and pulling the mixing bowl and the bag of sugar closer. Dean set a water bottle next to Cas and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Castiel smiled and turned his face so Dean would actually kiss his cheek and not the side of his head. “Thank you.”

“Course. She really asked for pie?” Dean asked, leaning against the island and popping the tab on his soda.

Castiel measured out the sugar and cinnamon, “Mhm. I offered cake and she looked at me like I’d insisted we throw out her favorite boots.” He mixed everything together and added the rest of the lemon juice before pouring the filling into the crust. Some recipes called for baking the crust first, but if he baked them at the same time, the egg whites mixed with the filling to leave the crust crisp and flakey on the outside and warm and gooey on the inside. Castiel reached for the dough remnants and started the latticework on top of the pie.

“Always knew that kid had good taste,” Dean couldn’t hide his grin. 

Castiel made a noncommittal noise and slid the finished pie onto a tray and into the oven. He hummed as he turned the timer on and grinned when he felt Dean’s arms wrap around his waist from behind. 

Dean kissed the spot behind Castiel’s ear and murmured, “We got, what, forty minutes?” Castiel rolled his eyes and turned in Dean’s embrace to kiss him.

“I have to check the pie in twenty five minutes. I’ve noticed the oven isn’t entirely level anymore, I don’t want it to bake lopsided,” he ran his hands up Dean’s arms and smiled.

“I can fix that. Get Sammy over here and we’ll figure it out next weekend sometime,” Dean nodded, adding the oven to his mental ‘fix it’ list.

“You can’t next weekend; Sam and Amelia are leaving the kids with us and going to that bed and breakfast for Amelia’s birthday, remember? Besides, I promised Maisy we’d do cookies,” Castiel moved forward until Dean was pressed against the island and kissed him soundly, “But I know it’ll get done eventually. We could do it together, the weekend after next if you like. The library has excellent How To manuals; we just got new ones in last week.”

Dean returned the kiss and grinned against Castiel’s mouth, “You ordered How To manuals special? You’re such a weirdo sometimes. Does Maggie even know you ordered those?” He tightened his grip around Castiel’s waist before letting him go and reaching for his soda.

“Well, yes, I ordered them and no I decided against informing Maggie; she seems to get agitated when I tell her about the special orders. But Kyle and Daniel in town asked for some How To manuals for around the house things and when I went through the catalogue there were others that I thought would be useful,” Castiel moved away and began tidying up the kitchen

“I can get that, darlin’; you did all the hard part,” Dean reached for the mixing bowl and the corer as Castiel started putting the sugar and cinnamon away.

He smiled, “Thank you, Dean. I’ll dry.” They worked in companionable silence until the first timer dinged and Castiel moved to rotate the pie.

“Fuck that smells good, baby,” Dean nearly groaned when Cas opened the oven and the pie smell filled the kitchen. “You know, if she’s any kid ‘a mine, she’s gonna smell that and come running.”

“Hopefully she’ll remember what I said about staying in bed,” Castiel replied, shutting the oven door again.

“Oops,” a voice squeaked from the doorway. Dean laughed and Castiel sighed and turned toward Maisy.

“Maisy,” Cas said, “Remember how being up late doesn’t mean celebrating your birthday more?”

Maisy shuffled in the doorway and twisted the drawstring on her sleep pants, “Yeah, but, I smelled pie, Papa.” She licked her lips and turned her wide eyed stare on Dean.

Dean held up his hands, “Woah, woah, we agreed no chick flick moments after bedtime. You’re on your own with Cas on this one.”

“But, Dad,” she tried really hard to keep the whine out of her voice, “Someone has to taste test the pie or it could be poisoned. Like the apples in Snow White!”

“Sunshine, that hasn’t worked since you were six,” Castiel smiled gently and wrapped an arm around Maisy’s shoulders. He looked at Dean and sighed, “Dean, that hasn’t worked since she was six.”

Dean bit his lip, “Yeah, but…”

“The pie is not even ready yet,” Castiel reminded them both gently, “And it will still be warm tomorrow after dinner, I promise. We can even put it back in the oven.” He knew their favorite arguments about fresh from the oven pie versus microwaved pie. “And then the ice cream will melt just like you want it to. But back to bed now, it’s a school day tomorrow.” Maisy sighed and sent a forlorn look toward the oven but Castiel remained resolute, even in the face of Dean’s identical forlorn look. “Bed. Dad will be happy to help you get back to your room, won’t he?”

“C’mon, Sweets, he ain’t budgin’. Your Papa’s serious about his pie guarding,” Dean set his can back on the island and crossed the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway to ruffle Maisy’s curls and give Cas a quick kiss.

“He never budges,” Maisy grumbled but let Dean lead her away from the kitchen.

“Good night, sweet pea, I love you!” Cas said as they left.

“G’night!” They both called back and Cas shook his head as he went back to drying the rest of the dishes.


End file.
